When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 98

Amelia

I slipped off my white coat and hung it carefully in my locker, feeling the weight of the day's deliveries in my shoulders. Six babies welcomed into the world today—not bad for a day's work. I glanced at my phone and smiled seeing Mrs. Wilson's text with a photo of Ella's newest drawing. That girl was getting more talented by the day.

"Dr. Thompson?"

I turned to see Dr. Matthews, our department head, standing in the doorway of the changing room. His expression was carefully neutral, which immediately set off warning bells in my head.

"I wanted to let you know that starting tomorrow, you'll be returning to your regular OB-GYN rotation."

"So my cross-departmental rotation is suddenly over?" I asked, feeling a flare of irritation. While returning to obstetrics was actually what I preferred, the timing was too coincidental.

He shifted uncomfortably. "The request came from administration. They feel your expertise is better utilized in your regular department now."

"Administration?" I echoed, but I already knew. Ethan. He'd barely been discharged from the hospital, and already he was pulling strings. First arranging my cross-departmental rotation when he was admitted, now sending me back to obstetrics once he left. The man couldn't stop interfering.

"I understand this is... unexpected," Dr. Matthews said, clearly sensing my frustration. "But the decision is final."

I forced a professional smile. "Actually, I'm happy to get back to my regular patients. I just don't appreciate the administrative maneuvering."

After he left, I slammed my locker shut harder than necessary. That controlling, interfering man! Three years away, and he still thought he had the right to dictate my life.

"Whoa, what did that locker do to you?" Rebecca appeared beside me, eyebrows raised.

"Nothing. Just... administrative bullshit," I muttered.

She nodded sympathetically. "By the way, have you heard the latest hospital gossip? The nurses can't stop talking about your mystery admirer. Someone's been asking about you at the reception desk, and those roses last week? Definitely not the last of them, according to Susan."

"What?" I froze.

Rebecca grinned. "Looks like someone's got it bad for our Dr. Thompson. Half the nursing staff is taking bets on who it is."

I slung my bag over my shoulder, feeling a headache forming. "They're wasting their time."

"If you say so," she sang, clearly unconvinced. "But whoever he is, he's persistent."

---

"Mommy!" Ella's excited voice greeted me the moment I opened the door to our apartment. She ran toward me, waving a colorful paper in her hand. "Look what I made today!"

I scooped her up, inhaling the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo. "Let me see this masterpiece, sweetheart."

She thrust the drawing into my hands proudly. "It's our family!"

I examined the picture—colorful stick figures standing in front of what appeared to be our apartment building. There was a tall figure with brown curly hair labeled "Mommy," two smaller figures clearly meant to be Lucas and Ella, and... a fourth figure, taller than the rest with dark hair.

My throat tightened. "Who's this, honey?" I pointed to the fourth figure.

"That's Daddy, silly!" Ella giggled, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Lucas says we should have a daddy too, like his friend Jack from the park."

A cold wave of anxiety washed over me, leaving a hollow ache in my stomach as if I'd been struck. Three years of careful avoidance, of building a life where my children never felt the absence of something they'd never had, crumbling because of a playground conversation.

I hadn’t prepared for this moment; it felt like a crack in the carefully constructed world I’d built.

"Ella, sweetheart..." I began, not even sure what to say.

Mrs. Wilson appeared from the kitchen, her expression apologetic. "Lucas had quite a lot of questions today after meeting that boy at the playground. He wanted to know why some families have daddies and we don't."

I stroked Ella's hair, buying time to compose myself. "Honey, some families are different. Ours has a mommy who loves you both enough for two parents."

Ella looked thoughtful, then nodded, seemingly satisfied with this explanation for now. "Can I have cookies?"

I laughed, relieved at the quick change of subject. "One cookie, then bath time."

---

After tucking the kids into bed, I collapsed onto the couch and video-called Olivia.

"You look like hell," she greeted me cheerfully.

"Thanks, exactly what I needed to hear." I held up Ella's drawing. "Look what I got today. The daddy questions have officially begun."

Olivia's eyes widened. "Wow. I guess it was bound to happen eventually. Time for the 'special families' talk?"

I groaned. "Apparently. And that's not all—Ethan's somehow managed to get my hospital schedule changed."

"He's obviously still crazy about you," Olivia pointed out. "The man got himself injured just to see you."

"That's not romantic, that's manipulative," I countered. "How are things with you? Noah still hanging around your set?"

Olivia rolled her eyes dramatically. "God, that man is infuriating! He shows up with his fancy coffee and charming smile like he owns the place. The director practically worships him since he's financing half the film."

I smirked. "Sounds like someone else is crazy about someone."

"Oh, shut up," she grumbled. "He's just trying to annoy me. And succeeding spectacularly."

After we hung up, I gathered the children's freshly washed clothes and headed to the balcony to hang them to dry. The night air was cool against my skin, the city lights creating a beautiful backdrop. Out of habit, I glanced at the neighboring apartment that had been empty since before I left New York.

Except it wasn't empty anymore.

Light spilled from the windows, and as I watched, a tall figure moved past the glass. Something about the silhouette seemed familiar, but I couldn't place it. New neighbors. Great. I just hoped they weren't the noisy type.

Back in my bedroom, just as I turned off the lights, my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: [Goodnight.]